


Longing for the bliss

by RedHatMeg



Category: Doctor Strange (2016)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, spoilers for the Doctor Strange movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-10 12:48:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14737244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedHatMeg/pseuds/RedHatMeg
Summary: Sometimes eidetic memory was a blessing. Sometimes it was a curse. Especially when you remember all 1000 deaths of yourself.





	Longing for the bliss

**Author's Note:**

> Some time ago I had this idea of fic exploring Doctor Strange remembering every single death of his in Dark Dimension - how his eidetic memory made the whole dying a thausand times even more horrific in the hindsight (and how Cloak of Levitation tries to comfort his friend). Yesterday I finally got around to write it, largely due to post dealing with Strange's mental scars during Infinity War.
> 
> Please, review.

Eidetic memory certainly had its blessings. Stephen Strange needed to read a medicine book once and its pages were forever written in his mind. He needed to listen to a lecture once and he remembered every word of the lecturer. He needed to look at the picture once to be able to see it every time when he closed eyes. When others were pulling all-nighters to learn enormous amount of material, Stephen Strange could relax and occupy himself with more interesting things like going out on a date or watching a movie. And on a day of the exams he would earn As left and right, maybe even show off a little in front of his examiners by displaying some more extensive knowledge on the subject he was asked about.

Needless to say, some people were pissed that such a smug bastard like him had it so easy, while they had to actually work for their grades. However, it wasn’t like Stephen didn’t work in his studies. In fact, he strived to be the best. And knowing things was the easy part; he also had to become more precise, careful and methodic, if he wanted to be a good doctor. That was something his eidetic memory couldn’t give him – a good practice.

When his surgeon career was over and Stephen found a new life purpose, his eidetic memory proved to be a blessing once again. Every book he read, every picture he saw, every technique he learned, was stuck in his memory for good. He didn’t have to think long about the spells he wanted to perform, his mind was quickly bringing up the right words or formulas. And once again it was only the matter of practice whenever he would muster them or not.

Before he knew it, he became insanely good with magic.

But as much as his eidetic memory was giving him enormous advantage in studies, it also had its downsides. Stephen Strange remembered everything vividly, to a tiniest detail. Both the good and the bad things that happened to him. He remembered the death of his sister. He remembered all his failed relationships with women. He remembered the jealousy of his classmates and coworkers. He remembered his reckless driving that costed him his medical career. He remembered his desperation for cure. He remembered the nights on Kamal-Taj’s porch.

And he remembered the many deaths of himself in the Dark Dimension.

Each and every one of them. And boy, there was a lot of it! He was impaled, crushed, bombarded with fire, torn apart, burned alive… Sometimes they were almost instant, sometimes they were a bit slower and more painful. Dormammu considered Stephen as nothing more than an annoying bug, so at first any cruelty on his part was accidental, however, soon his annoyance started to grow and he got a little more creative with ways of killing said bug. The demon wanted to break Doctor Strange and make him release them both from Stephen’s trap. But the sorcerer was stubborn. He had to be, if he wanted to save the world.

He would probably laugh that he died even more than most characters in video games during a Boss fight, if he wasn’t busy trying to bargain with a giant demon head hell-bent on invading the Earth; and if his mind wasn’t bringing up bits of information he learned in med school (like the locations of organs Dormammu just impaled or how long it takes for human body to be burnt into crisp). But the thing is, this Boss fight could be won only with him failing it constantly – for he intended to break Dormammu with annoyance. And he did it. He managed force Dormammu to bargain with a mere bug from Earth. Stephen’s multiple deaths resulted in a sweet victory.

Once he came back to New York Sanctum and put the Eye of Agamotto back on its place; once he was left alone to rest; once all the emotions from the recent battle calmed down, Stephen Strange found himself involuntarily reflecting on his many deaths. His memory flooded him with bits and pieces of everything he endured that night. And as much as he was trying to push it all away, they were coming back, almost as vivid as the moment he experienced it. He especially couldn’t push away this horrifying feeling of his life slowly leaving his body overwhlemed by pain. And even though some of his deaths were bringing him sweet blissfulness, he knew it was only temporary – for he couldn’t rest in death, when there was a task at hand.

And then he remembered about fight with Kaecilius and his goons; about going to the hospital to ask Christine to help him with his wound; about himself entering the New York Sanctum and learning about the secret of Ancient One; and about the death of the Ancient One and the last conversation he had with her. Then he remembered how Kaecilius managed to open up the Dark Dimension; and how Stephen, Wong and Mordo learned that London Sanctum has already fallen…

And in the darkness of his new chamber, sitting in the armchair, with Cloak of Levitation flying aimlessly around it, Stephen Strange started to weep.

Grief, pain and tiredness merged into one overwhelming feeling of weakness. Stephen sobbed uncontrollably, remembering all the things that happened today. He was a mess, a total mess. At this very moment he wished to be left alone and never leave his room. He wanted to go to bed and forget about everything that transpired that day. He longed for blissful ignorance; for amnesia that could bring him peace of mind. Because he knew he wasn’t going to sleep that night – not after dying a thousand times.

He looked at his hands. They were trembling so he put them together and clenched them tightly. How he was going to be the Master of New York Sanctum when he couldn’t pull himself together? To be perfectly honest, he didn’t want this job. He didn’t ask for it, The Ancient One kind of bestowed it upon him when he managed to fight off Kaecilius. And now, he was going to fight off another enemies; take care of balance in the universe. There were a lot of mystical things he would probably have to keep an eye on and the more he was thinking about it, the more he was sure he wasn’t going to manage all of that responsibility.

Suddenly he felt a sleek fabric embracing him in an odd hug. He grew to know this fabric – soft, yet strong and strangely vivid. In the darkness, overwhelmed by grief, Stephen Strange forgot that he wasn’t actually alone; that Cloak of Levitation chose him today to be his wielder and actually attempted to comfort him after the death of The Ancient One. The Cloak of Levitation was also with him all those times when he died in Dark Dimension. Often it was perishing alongside with him.

And now the Cloak of Levitation was embracing him. It actually caught him off-guard how oddly comforting it was. Cloak couldn’t communicate in any verbal way, but somehow Stephen understood what it was saying: “I know… I was there… But it’s over now. We are safe…”

Stephen put his hands on the Cloak to hug it back. For a moment they were just sitting in this position, in silence and in the dark. He was actually glad that after day like this, he wasn’t alone; that he didn’t put Cloak of Levitation back in its glass case but simply let it fly around his room. And right now, he was actually happy that it was his relic that witnessed his breakdown, and not Wong or any other sorcerer. Not only because they might consider Stephen weak, but mostly because he couldn’t shake the feeling they would never understand. They weren’t there. They hadn’t gone through what he had gone through. The Cloak had. And so Stephen started to wonder if the relic felt as shitty as him.

He hugged the Cloak a little bit tighter and said:

“What a day, eh? Are you as exhausted as I am?”

The Cloak broke the embrace and flew a bit away to playfully grab his hand with its lower corner and gently lead him towards the door. After initial surprise, Stephen let himself be led by his relic to whatever place it wanted him to go. Soon they found themselves in New York Sanctum’s library. Stephen immediately started to look through the shelves and before he knew it, he took off the first big tome that caught his eye. Cloak, however, rested on his shoulders and elevated him to the shelves on the higher floor.

Doctor Strange suddenly understood what Cloak was doing. It wasn’t a perfect solution but at least it was something to occupy his agitated mind for the rest of the night.

Yet in the proceeding weeks Stephen was finding himself haunted by the thoughts of Dark Dimension. He was remembering the gruesome deaths sent upon him by annoyed Dormammu; he remembered how his life was fading away from his body; and he remembered the sensation of being of the verge of breaking point and yet having strength to go on. Sometimes he was feeling the pain of his various deaths; sometimes he was reliving them over and over again. He knew that he wasn’t impaled but he remembered the sensation of spikes going through his body. He knew that he wasn’t torn apart, but he felt the tentacles pulling him in different directions. He knew that there was no fire going in his way, but for some reason his skin was burning.

Sometimes something was triggering the memories. Other times they were coming at random. But always he needed a distraction to push the memories away. Therefore Stephen Strange was happy that his duties were making him a busy man.

* * *

The Cloak of Levitation grew attached to its wielder pretty quickly. In the span of one day Stephen Strange proved to be more than worthy of Cloak’s power – he was cunning, unconventional, but also stubborn and ready to face his demons for the greater good. That is why when Doctor Strange died for the first time in Dark Dimension, Cloak felt an immense sorrow that it lost its wielder so soon… and was immediately relieved when he came back to life. But it soon realized that its happiness was premature, for it was the first of many demises of Doctor Strange in Dark Dimension. And so the Cloak of Levitation had to witness multiple times how his wielder dies in various gruesome ways, and it couldn’t do anything about it, but hope that Dormammu will finally break.

Oddly enough, the Cloak felt a bit better when it was perishing with Stephen. For some reason death alongside with him seemed to be a little more bearable than surviving and watching him die… even if Cloak knew perfectly this death wasn’t permanent.

Little did Stephen Strange know that Cloak made a connection with him from the moment it chose him. Cloak was not only able to sense the distress in Strange, but also see the source of said distress in his mind. And so that fateful night the Cloak was painfully aware that the multiple deaths of the sorcerer was still fresh in his memory; and soon it also find out that the recollections of that time was haunting him even weeks later.

The nights were the worst. For in the nights Stephen was waking up screaming. He dreamt of space surrounded with floating rocks; filled with colors, yet dark and ominous. And he dreamt of an enormous being who wanted to take over Earth and was looking down at the mere mortal that dared to bargain with it. But this time Dormammu seemed to be even more sadistic; this time the demon was not only killing Stephen Strange, but also was the one bringing him back to life. And each death was slower and more painful than last… and Doctor Strange knew that Dormammu was only warming up.

So once the Cloak was sensing the incoming nightmare, it was flying straight to its wielder’s chambers. It was observing Stephen fidgeting in his bed, mumbling incoherent stuff in his sleep before he was finally waking up.

He always needed couple of seconds to bear his surroundings and notice the outline of his relic floating in the darkness of the room. And when he did finally notice Cloak of Levitation, there was always an expression of relief on his face. But it lasted only a moment, because Stephen knew there will be no sleep for him through the rest of the night.

And so he and Cloak of Levitation resolved to the solution of that first night together – they were going to the library and borrowing books that could distract the sorcerer’s mind from unwanted memories.

* * *

Over time, Stephen decided that there had to be a way to erase some of his memories. And so he settled to find a spell or magic technique that could release him from the horrors he was seeing. First he went through all the books in New York Sanctum that dealt with subject of mind and memory, even vaguely. And surely, he found  few interesting amnesia spells. However, most of them were either about erasing memories of last couple of days, or a complete and utter mind wipe. Some of them had even really nasty side effects. Either way, they were useless to him.

At some point Stephen chose to look for consultation.

* * *

“I need help.”

Wong, who was browsing through books in the Kamal-Taj library, looked at Stephen with raised eyebrows. For a long time, he suspected that ever since Dormammu was defeated, the Master of New York Sanctum was bothered by something. Wong often visited New York to check on things, he sometimes noticed that Stephen seemed to suddenly dose off in the middle of conversation, like he was remembering something and was lost in the past.

Whatever happened in Dark Dimension left some kind of mark in Stephen Strange.

Or maybe it was just this whole thing of him being all alone whole day in New York Sanctum, with only Cloak of Levitation as his company. But for sure the relic appreciated some of Strange’s jokes, considering both of them were so similar in their immaturity.

Either way, the librarian wasn’t pushing it. He felt that it wasn’t really his call to ask about what happened. Besides, he had Kamal-Taj to manage and, to be frank, Strange was doing great as a Master of New York Sanctum. Nevertheless, Wong kept an eye on the sorcerer and wondered what’s going on.

The fact that Doctor Strange came to the Kamal-Taj and was asking for help, was a really interesting turn of events. And so the librarian waited for him to elaborate.

“There is a spell I would like to learn but I can’t find it.” Stephen went on. “It’s very important.”

“What kind of spell you need?” Wong asked.

“Something which could erase certain memories from mind. An old ones that have at least couple of months. And this spell have to leave the rest of the memory intact. Is there something like that?”

Wong raised his eyebrows again but then he frowned.

“Don’t tell me you were sloppy and let somebody see something they shouldn’t have.”

“Oh, no, no, no.” Doctor Strange replied and smiled sheepishly. Then he sighed and looked at Wong with somber expression. “I actually want to use it on myself.”

Well, this was certainly interesting turn of events…

Wong remembered something Stephen had told him and The Ancient One. The thing he considered the main reason he was so good with magic, even though The Ancient One suspected he had a natural gift for mystic arts. A blessing and a curse – the ability that certainly was making knowledge easier to learn but made the bad things all the more painful.

And suddenly Wong understood.

“Memory serves a purpose, Doctor Strange.” The librarian started to sort out the tomes resting on his desk. “Even the bad memories give us something to cherish.”

“Well, then, tell this to the war veterans. Or anyone with PTSD, really.” Stephen retorted.

For a moment Wong wasn’t saying anything. He was just staring at the other man, who seemed on the verge of desperation. Finally the librarian spoke:

“There is such a spell.”

Strange’s face lit up.

“Really?”

Wong nodded.

“Very precise, very effective. It erases just the memories one wants to forget…”

“Great!” Stephen started, but the librarian cut in:

“… but only if it’s a memory of average person. The spell will have quite different effect on someone with eidetic memory.”

Immediately Doctor Strange stopped smiling.

“Someone with memory such as yours,” Wong went on. “will forget not only what they want to forget, but will slowly start to forget everything that happened since then. Do you really want to risk losing important information just to forget your trauma?”

Strange moved his eyes from Wong. For a moment it seemed that he was only trying to avoid his gaze, but then the old sorcerer realized that Stephen was actually looking at the left corner of Cloak of Levitation that started to wiggle around him. Obviously, he was contemplating whenever forgetting the day of Dormammu’s defeat was worth it or not. From practical standpoint he would have to learn once again about the death of The Ancient One, about Mordo’s departure, Kaecilius’ defeat and Strange inheriting the position of Master of New York Sanctum (not to mention all the magic he studied since that day). From the emotional standpoint he would forget his goodbye to The Ancient One and…

“No.” Doctor Strange replied, moving his eyes from Cloak of Levitation to Wong. “I don’t.”

With resignation, he bit the librarian goodbye and left. Wong, on the other hand, came back to work. In some ways he felt sorry for Strange. The man certainly wasn’t the humblest, but even normal people had memories they wished to erase. And an eidetic memory could certainly be a great burden.

Especially if the one possessing it was Stephen Strange.

* * *

Once he came back to New York Sanctum, Doctor Strange felt that the bliss of forgetfulness he longed so much might never come. He could spend all his life to find the spell that could erase the unwanted memories, and he might never find it.

At this moment, in the silence of the New York Sanctum, all Stephen Strange could think of was the Dark Dimension. And the exchange between himself and the demon that killed him a thousand times…

_“You cannot do this for ever.”_

_“Actually, I can. This is how things are now! You and me. Trapped in this moment. Endlessly.”_

_“Then you will spend eternity dying!”_

_“Yes, but everyone on Earth will live.”_

_“But you will suffer!”_

_“Pain's an old friend.”_

Back then he was ready to endure the pain. Back then he wasn’t important. Back then there was too much at stake to think about what will happen to him if Dormammu leave. It was only when the battle was over, when he realized the pain wasn’t.

And probably it will never be.


End file.
